Landon & Shay - Part One: (The L&S Duet Book 1)

by Brittainy Cherry

  “I’m coming with you.”

  “No, Shay. You can’t. Didn’t you hear them? I’m no good for you. I’m no good for anyone.”

  “Stop it. Don’t let that crap get in your head, Landon. They are wrong. They are beyond wrong. Don’t let them allow your mind to start spiraling. Let me come with you. Let me stay by your side.”

  He cringed and rubbed the back of his neck. “I can’t, Shay. But can you do one thing for me?”

  “What’s that?”

  “Stay here and let me know if Monica makes it out okay? I know her parents probably won’t stick around too long if they have other places to be. But if you could just let me know? Keep me posted.”

  “But what about you?”

  “Don’t worry about me, Chick.” He smirked a little. “I’m always okay.”

  Liar.

  “Landon—”

  “Please, Shay. Please.”

  The way his mouth pleaded for my help was nothing compared to the way his eyes begged me to stay.

  “She won’t want me here,” I warned.

  “Trust me, I’ve been as low as Monica before. You’ll want anyone there over the idea of being alone. You don’t have to, though. If you don’t want.”

  “I will for you. I’ll do anything for you.”

  He smiled, and I thought it was a real one.

  I moved in without permission and wrapped my arms around Landon’s body. I held on tighter than ever, needing him to feel me. To feel close. To feel wanted.

  “I love you,” I whispered against his neck as he pulled me in closer. I loved how we fit together. As if we were two puzzle pieces who finally found their way home.

  “I love you,” he replied, his voice so low and drawn out.

  He let me go and thanked me for watching after Monica. As he walked away, I wanted to follow after him, but I knew I couldn’t. I made him a promise, and I knew I couldn’t let him down.

  As I walked back toward the waiting room, I thought back to Mima’s words from a few weeks ago.

  Sé valiente, sé fuerte, sé amable, y quédate.

  Be brave, be strong, be kind, and stay.

  I did exactly that.

  Monica’s parents left the moment they learned she was okay. They went back to their lives, leaving their daughter still in her hospital bed with no one around her.

  When the nurses weren’t looking, I went ahead and snuck into her room, knocking lightly on the door.

  “Come in,” she grumbled.

  The moment I rounded the curtain, I felt the biggest knot in my stomach. She looked awful. Broken down in ways unknown to most people. She was pale, heavy bags sat under her eyes, and she looked as if her body had been drained of every ounce of energy she stored.

  She sat up a little and combed her hair behind her ear, looking a bit embarrassed. “What are you doing here?” she asked, dodging clear eye contact with me.

  “I came with Landon to make sure you were okay. Your parents sent him away the moment they saw him, and he asked me to stay to make sure you were okay.”

  She snickered but then began coughing. “Why would he do that? It’s clear that he doesn’t give a damn about me.”

  “I think we both know that’s not true, Monica. Just because Landon isn’t in love with you, doesn’t mean he doesn’t have love for you.”

  She huffed and rolled her eyes. “This must make you happy, huh? Seeing me like this.”

  I frowned. Did she really think that? That her pain was my glory?

  “Never,” I told her. “I’m just glad you’re okay.”

  She turned her head away from me and wiped a few fallen tears from her eyes. “I hate you. You know that, right?”

  “Yes. I know.”

  “Do you know why, though?”

  “No…”

  She looked at me with tears still streaming down her face. “Because you make him better. I see it when he looks at you. There’s a light I could’ve never pulled out of him. You’re fixing him. You’re turning him back on after he’s been shut down for so long, and I hate you for that. I hate you for being able to do what I never could.”

  “Monica—”

  “I love you for that, too,” she cut in. “I love you for giving him that light. His life has been dark for so long. Both of ours have. We’ve had some pretty shitty days together. But you’re making it easier for him. At least one of us deserves that.”

  “Both of you deserve that.” I looked down at the brochures on her table and picked them up. “Rehab?” I asked.

  She rolled her eyes and shrugged. “I guess that’s the next step after an overdose. Some hippie mumbo jumbo about how my life matters and a step program to help me get clean.”

  “That’s good, Monica. That’s really good.” I shifted around in my sneakers. “If you want someone to come visit you while you’re there—”

  “Don’t get it twisted, Gable,” she snapped. “We aren’t friends or anything.”

  I laughed a little. Fair enough.

  “Okay, well, I’ll let you rest. I just wanted to stop in and let you know we’ve been thinking about you, Landon and I.”

  “Yeah, okay.”

  She turned back to face the window, and I started walking away but paused when she spoke.

  “Is he okay?” she asked.

  “Honestly? I’m not sure. I feel like he’s slipping away again.”

  She nodded but still kept her back toward me. “There’s a key to my house under the plant in my backyard. The one near the backdoor. Go get it, then go into my room and grab the papers on my desk. Give those to him. I think they might help.”

  “Okay. I’ll do that.”

  “Thank you,” she muttered. Then, she turned my way with the sincerest stare I’d ever seen Monica give. “Really, Shay. Thank you.”

  I nodded once.

  “And Shay? I still hate you.”

  “Don’t worry, Monica.” I smiled. “I still hate you, too.”

  After I left the hospital, I headed straight for Monica’s house to grab the paperwork from her bedroom. When I saw the ripped-out pages from my notebook, I had a split second of anger push through me, knowing she stole something from me, but then again, she was trying to do right in that very moment. Plus, my biggest concern was Landon.

  Before going to his place, I went back to Mima’s and picked up a few more notebooks to give to him. I didn’t know how much the words would mean to him, but I knew he had to fill his head with more love than hate that evening.

  I knocked on Landon’s door with nerves skyrocketing through my stomach as I waited for him to answer. A sigh of relief rolled through my system when the door opened and he stood there.

  “Hey, you.” I grinned. “Can I come in?”

  He stepped to the side and cleared a pathway for me.

  “Monica’s doing okay. She’s staying in the hospital for forty-eight hours before being transferred to a rehab clinic.”

  “Rehab?” he questioned, arching an eyebrow. “Good. That’s good.”

  “She asked me to give these to you,” I said, handing him the ripped-out pages of the notebook. “And I figured I should give you these, too, to go with it.” I gave him three more notebooks.

  “What are these?”

  “The most in-depth character portfolio I’ve ever created. I get a feeling you’ve already read the first part, but in my head, there’s nothing worse than an incomplete story, so you should finish reading until the very end.”

  He brushed a finger under his nose. “Will you stay with me as I read through it? I just…my mind is doing crazy shit right now, and I don’t want to be alone tonight.”

  “I’m not going anywhere, Landon. I’m here. I’m always here.”

  We moved to the couch and sat down. I pulled my knees into my chest and chewed on the collar of my shirt as he read the words I’d written about him. There were a few paragraphs that made him laugh out loud, and others that made him almost tear up. Every word was filled with love.
With want. With desire.

  With respect.

  “You think I’m all these good things?” he asked, his voice shaky as he placed the notebooks down on the coffee table.

  “No. I think you’re more.” I moved closer to him and wrapped my arms around his body. He put his hands on my lower back, holding me in place. “I’m sorry you’re so sad, Landon.”

  “Too sad. It’s too much for you.”

  “You’re never too much. I love your happy, and I love your sad. I love your light, and I love your dark. I love you. Every script, every page, every revision, every draft.”

  He brushed his lips against mine and closed his eyes. “I needed you today, and you were there. I cannot thank you for being there for me, for being here for me. For being…you. You make the darkest nights feel like the sun. I love you,” he breathed out, “I love you. I…love…you…”

  We were just two kids who made a stupid bet a few months ago. Two kids who pushed one another. Two kids who pissed each other off, who made rude remarks, who battled each other tooth and nail. And then, somewhere in the midst of our hate, we accidentally fell in love.

  “Can I have you tonight, Shay? Can I take you to my room and taste every single inch of you?” he muttered as his lips slowly nibbled at mine. “Can I be yours tonight?”

  “Yes. Every inch of me is all yours.”

  He carried me to his room and then undressed me slowly.

  We made love twice that night. The first time was delicate and controlled; he went slow and worshipped every single inch of me. The second time, I asked him to show me his scars, and he did exactly that. It was a messy kind of love. His kisses were deeper, his thrusts were harder, and his love was loud. He rocked his hips against mine, pinning me against the dresser, against the bed, against his heartbeats. He made love like the wild beast that lived within him. He moaned and grunted as he pounded into me, showing me his pain, his heartache, his scars.

  And that heartbroken boy? He was mine.

  Damaged.

  Broken.

  Disheveled.

  And mine.

  When Sunday morning came, he walked me to the front door and wrapped me into a hug. “Thank you for staying.”

  “I’ll always stay.”

  He gave me a lopsided smile. “You’re everything good in this world. Do you know that?”

  “Ditto.”

  He looked my way, and I began to read him. There was something he wasn’t saying, something he was holding back to himself, and I hated that I couldn’t tap into it. I hated that I couldn’t tap into that part of him. It was as if he’d put up a wall to keep me from reading his current chapter.

  “What is it?” I asked.

  “What is what?”

  “What’s going on in your head?”

  He snickered and tapped his temple. “Not much goes on in here,” he joked.

  “Landon, really. What is it?”

  “Don’t worry so much, Chick. I’m okay. I’ll talk to you later, all right?” He pulled me into a hug and kissed my forehead. “I love you.”

  “I love you, too.”

  I couldn’t get the knot out of my stomach, though, based on how he said his words. Why did his “I love you” feel like he was saying goodbye?

  30

  Landon

  Shay left Sunday morning, and I was thankful to have Maria come that afternoon.

  I knew I shouldn’t have been alone. Even with Shay staying with me last night, I felt a heaviness on me that I couldn’t shake away. I was afraid to be alone with my thoughts. I was afraid to be left with only myself and my mind.

  “You are quiet tonight, which means you’re probably thinking too much,” Maria commented as we ate our dinner together.

  “Just a lot going on in my mind,” I commented, swirling my spoon around in the mashed potatoes.

  “By all means, share your thoughts.”

  I wanted to talk to her about it. I wanted to open up and show her the messiness of my brain, but it didn’t work that way. Even if I talked about it, my thoughts would leave my head jumbled and flustered. They wouldn’t make sense to her, because they hardly made sense to me.

  All I knew was that I was tired. Each day felt more like a burden, and I was being weighed down.

  She clasped her hands together and leaned toward me. “Slow it down, Landon. Your brain is running on overdrive, so you must slow it down. Go slow. Take your time to process through your feelings.”

  I wished it were that easy. I wished depression was like a car, and I could simply push the brakes to slow down my mind whenever I needed a rest. I wished I could shut off the engine and be still for a small amount of time. But depression, for me, was the complete opposite of that. When my mind started driving, it hit the accelerator and took off at full speed toward a brick wall.

  Any day now, I was going to crash.

  Any day now, I was going to fall completely apart.

  I gave Maria a sloppy grin. “It’s okay. I’m okay.”

  She narrowed her eyes and placed a hand on top of mine. “You’re not okay, and that’s fine. But don’t spiral too far away from home that you can’t pull yourself out of it. I know that feeling. I’ve been living with depression for a very long time. I know how your mind can swallow you whole.”

  I raised a shocked eyebrow. There was no way Maria had depression. She was the happiest woman I’d ever crossed paths with. She was just like her granddaughter—the definition of joy.

  “There’s no way…” I started.

  She smiled, and dammit her grin looked like Shay’s, and dammit, dammit, dammit, I missed Shay’s smile the most. And her laugh. And her eyes. And her small nibbling of candy.

  “I’ve been working my whole life to make peace with my depression. It was a long battle of finding the right medication for my system and talking to the right people. I still see my therapist once a week. There seems to be this idea that if you have depression, you don’t deserve certain things in this world, and Landon Scott, that is a lie. You deserve more. More than your thoughts that lie to you. More than your doubts that you keep feeding yourself. More than your fears that you’ll never have a normal life. You deserve more.”

  I lowered my head and fiddled with my fingers. “I’m scared,” I confessed.

  “What’s your biggest fear?”

  “Being alone. Not being able to let people in because of the mess that is my brain.”

  “What about my granddaughter? You let her in. I know you did. I’d never seen you happier than when you two were getting close.”

  I nodded. “Shay’s amazing. She’s the best thing that’s ever happened to me. But I don’t deserve her. I honestly wish I could be more for her, but I can’t. I’m just me.”

  “And that is enough,” Maria whispered, squeezing my hand.

  “That’s not what your daughter told me.”

  Maria raised an eyebrow. “Camila said something to you?”

  “Yes. She came to me and asked me to stay away from Shay because I was too damaged. She told me I wasn’t good enough. That I wasn’t worthy of loving your granddaughter.”

  “No…” Maria shook her head in shock, sitting back a bit in her chair. “No. No. No.”

  I shrugged. “It’s okay. She wasn’t wrong.”

  “Yes, Landon. She was. I love my daughter, but she was way out of line for ever saying those words to you. Camila is going through her own storm at this moment. Her life is upside down, and I’m certain her world is spinning just as fast as your mind. But she went toward the wrong target when she came to you. Instead of talking to you, she should’ve been having a conversation with her own heart. She should’ve gone internal and done some soul searching, but she didn’t. Hurt people have a way of hurting others. Not even on purpose, but it happens. That’s the problem with making decisions during stretches of temporary sadness or struggle. You sometimes shoot bullets at people who didn’t deserve to be shot. You didn’t deserve that, Landon.

  “Any w
oman would be lucky to be loved by a heart like yours—including my granddaughter. You don’t see what a gift you are to this world, to the people around you. But we want you in our lives. We need you in our lives. So, please, stop running. Place your feet on the ground and make peace with your demons. Stop fighting them and hold them. You’re not broken; you’re just complex. And the most beautiful things in the world have the most complex heartbeats.”

  I didn’t reply, because I hadn’t a clue what to say.

  I was sad.

  The kind of sad I didn’t think I could get over.

  “Do me a favor, son?” Maria asked me.

  “Yeah?”

  “Promise me one thing. Promise me that when you are feeling at your lowest, like you have nothing left to give…like your mind is slipping and swallowing you whole…that you’ll reach out to someone. It doesn’t have to be me, but just someone you trust wholeheartedly. Don’t drown in your head, Landon. Reach out. Because this world? It needs you. We need you. I need you here. So, don’t you dare think that you’re not important. Don’t you dare let those thoughts drown you. Promise me this.”

  I brushed my hand against my nose and sniffled as I nodded. “I promise.”

  “Again, please,” she begged, her eyes piercing through me.

  “I promise.”

  After we finished eating dinner, we cleaned everything up. I headed to my room and grabbed a letter I’d written before she came over.

  “Can you do me a favor?” I asked. “Do you think you can give this letter to Shay for me?”

  “Of course, sweetheart. Anything you need, I’ll do for you.”

  “Thank you.”

  She gathered her things, and when she was about to leave, I walked her to my front door. “Thanks for today, Maria.”

  “Thanks for every day, Landon,” she replied. She shifted around in her shoes, then held her hands out toward me. “Do you think I can pray over you before I go?” she asked.

  I grimaced a little but nodded. I took her hands into mine and felt her warmth. The same warmth that raced through Shay’s spirit. As Maria began praying, I prayed a little, too. I didn’t know if I was doing it right, or if it would really make a difference at all. This time, I did something different than all the other times she prayed for me, though.